Growing Up Beside You
by cute-will-kill
Summary: Sherlock Holmes never cried; it was a stupid idea. He couldn't understand why people participated in the activity; it was pointless, dull and made your body do awful things like make your face go blotchy and your nose run. He'd learnt quickly not to cry. He never got anywhere crying.
1. I'm Growing Up Beside You

"_Clear-cut attachment develops when the infant's six months to two years old. The infant's behaviour towards the 'caregiver' becomes organized on a goal directed to achieve the conditions that make it feel safe/secure. By the end of the first year the infant has the potential to display a range of attachment behaviours designed to maintain proximity. These manifest as; protesting the caregiver's departure, greeting the caregiver's return, 'clinging'/maintaining proximity when frightened and following when able. _

_With the development of locomotion the infant begins to use the caregiver(s) as a 'safebase' from which to explore. Infant exploration is greater when the caregiver is present because the infant's attachment system is relaxed and it's free to explore. If the caregiver is inaccessible or unresponsive attachment behaviour becomes stronger. Anxiety, fear, illness and fatigue will cause a child to increase its attachment behaviour. After the second year, as the child begins to see the carer as an independent person, a more complex and goal orientated relationship is formed. Children begin to notice others' goals and feelings and so plan their actions accordingly. For example; whereas babies cry because of pain, two-year-olds cry to summon their caregiver and, if that doesn't work, cry louder, shout or follow." _

: :

Sherlock Holmes never cried; it was a stupid idea. He couldn't understand why people participated in the activity; it was pointless, dull and made your body do awful things like make your face go blotchy and your nose run.

He'd learnt quickly not to cry. He never got anywhere crying.

People in the village often commented that it was odd that a child of seven never cried, not even when he was pushed over or called names. People always gave him looks and whispered behind their hands. Because he was a _child_ people thought he couldn't see or hear them. Idiots.

The party was boring. They were always boring, no matter what event this tiny, little, insignificant village had decided to celebrate that time. This time it was something to do with a rabbit and some god's son dying. He didn't see why this concerned him so he'd found himself a quiet bench in the garden tucked into the trees and away from all the noise and senseless chatter his mother had deemed a necessary interaction when living in this insignificant place in the middle of nowhere.

: :

John had stayed by his mother for a while before realising that was ridiculous for a ten year old, no matter how short he was, so he wandered off to have a look at the Holmes estate. His mum had told him to be nice to the Holmes kid if he saw him; apparently he could be cruel and was a bit odd. His mum had settled in nicely to the village already participating in the gossip.

After a while of looking at the rooms John slipped out an open door and was hit by the unusual heat of the summer. He looked around for a couple of minutes before losing patience with the sun and slipping into a group of trees that provided enough shade for it to be cool and nice.

There was a slight but lanky boy lying on the bench with his eyes closed so John approached quietly not wanting to wake him.

Without opening his eyes the boy said softly "Harry or John?"

John blinked in surprise, how did this boy know him and Harry's name? "What?" He replied uncertainly.

The boys face barely changed but his lips twitched upwards a little "You're wondering how I know? You're gait is different to other peoples here, faster, you're used to keeping up with crowds, so from a city. Not from round here. Anyone who's spent any time here would have slowed their pace to match the locals so you must be new. Coupled by the fact I heard a new family have moved into the cottage down the road I assumed you must be Harry or are you the other brother John?" He opened his eyes and looked at him now smiling, "How did I do?"

: :

The boy, Harry or John, whichever, took a step forward looking intrigued but not scared. That was new.

"Um...yes...how did you do that?"

"I observed and put things together."

He smiled, "That was amazing!" He moved closer and stuck out his hand, "I'm John by the way."

Sherlock looked at John, he seemed nice; older than him but would be in the same year as him at school because of Sherlock's tendency to know more than his teachers. Sandy blonde hair and wide blue eyes with an open face; appealing. Short for his age as well Sherlock saw with a smirk seeing that in fact he would be taller than him standing up.

He took John's hand and shook it smiling.

: :

"_Age, cognitive growth and continual social experience advance the development and complexity of the internal working model. Attachment related behaviours lose some characteristics typical of the infant-toddler period and take on age related tendencies. Three to four year olds use negotiation and bargaining. For example four-year-olds are not distressed by separation if they and their caregiver have already negotiated a shared plan for the separation and reunion. Ideally, these social skills become incorporated into the internal working model to be used with other children and later with adult peers." _

: :

Sherlock had an _enjoyable _afternoon in the end. He and John sat on the bench and chatted about random things; the village, the school they both would be going to (returning for Sherlock) at the end of the holiday and how boring the party was.

And of course Sherlock entertained John by giving him his deductions about any guest who came into or passed the garden.

"Wait!" John laughs loud and clear, "Wait. Wait. How on earth do you know she misses her dead husband?!"

Sherlock smiles and rolls his eyes tipping his head back to look at the boy sitting next to his head on the ground instead of looking at the sky. "It's obvious John! Look at her!"

John nudges the top of his head with his shoulder before going back to leaning comfortably against the wooden bench running his fingers through the soft grass under him "I am looking! I couldn't even see that she'd lost her husband..."

He smiles indulgently then flips so he can see John's face. "The husband died, we all went to his funeral; it was boring." John rolls his eyes at this but doesn't interrupt wanting to understand. "But also there is an impression where her wedding ring was so it was recent, she hasn't had enough time for it to tan over and she wore it for at least two years because of the large colour difference. She's stopped wearing it because it's too painful but hasn't let go as you can see by the rather obvious sign that she's wearing it on a chain round her neck. You can tell it's too painful because it's partially tucked into her shirt so she doesn't have to see it. She's missing him, you can tell by the small white hairs that she recently got a cat to keep her company-you can tell it's not a dog because there are too many-so she's missing him and wants company. As well as grief being the social norm it was easy."

John grins and his eyes light up "that's brilliant Sherlock!"

"Did you know you do that out loud?"

"Oh...sorry." John's smile slips a little and Sherlock immediately frowns; he didn't mean to make John sad.

"No I didn't mean...it's not bad...it's just not what people normally say." He swallows nervously wondering if John will leave now like all the other children; run away, point and laugh at him.

"What do other people say?"

"Freak. Odd. Weird. Devil. Then they run away or laugh." Part of Sherlock wondered why on earth he was telling John this, giving him another thing to laugh at, another part of him just wanted to tell someone and let them in. He wanted John to know and that he knew was ridiculous; he'd only met him a couple of hours ago. He didn't even _like _people. Was John people? He didn't know. And that was scarier than anyone leaving. He stared at the bench below him suddenly unsure.

"Oh...Sherlock..." John sounded...upset? He looked up frowning; he's so bad with emotions. "I won't do that! You're cool and it's really awesome what you can do..." And then he smiled and Sherlock couldn't help but smile back.

: :

John was enjoying his afternoon until Harry found them. He had been sitting in the long grass and leaning against the top of the bench where Sherlock's head whilst the younger kid had been amazing John with his deductions. Harry came out into the garden calling for John and running down the garden (more like a large field) to the bottom to check, hitching her dress up around her knees so it wouldn't rip and climbing up the fence to shout for him.

Sherlock turned over and hissed at him, "I got it wrong!"

"What?"

"She's a she!"

John frowned; what the hell was Sherlock thin-oohhhh... "It doesn't matter! You're still brilliant..."

Sherlock waved a hand "I know I am! But there's always something I miss; get slightly wrong. This time she's a girl!"

John rolled his eyes and pats the top of Sherlock's head "calm down! It's all right; she's a right tomboy."

Sherlock glared "Only you could justify that."

John smiles and then his face falls "This has been fun Sherlock..."

Sherlock opens his mouth to reply but before he can Harry has pounced on John. "Oh my god John. Mummy's worried sick! How could you wander off? It's time to go home and..." She trails off as she catches Sherlock glaring at her. If looks could kill, John decided, Harry would be dead. Twice.

Hurriedly he steps in "Um Sherlock, this is my sister; Harry. Harry this is Sherlock; my friend." Sherlock's eyes widen almost imperceptibly with the word friend and then he smiles a little.

"Hello..." It's a quiet response from Sherlock who holds out a hand for Harry to shake.

"I heard he's a freak." Harry glared at Sherlock and he withdrew his hand quickly as if burnt.

"Harry!"

"What?! It's true! Everyone says so!" John glares at her.

"Doesn't make it true. Go and tell Mum I'll be there in a minute..." Once she'd gone he turned to Sherlock. "I'm so sorry! She probably wants to be friends; she's just not good at showing it..."

Sherlock nods absently, "Yes, I'm sure..."

John smiles sadly "I'm very sorry...I've got to go anyway...see you soon maybe?"

"Yes. Yes; I'd like that."

John grinned pushing himself up. "See you soon then Sherlock!" He called over his shoulder as he ran back to the house and as he looked back he saw the boy half smile and wave back.

: :

**Hey? Um, yeah so... Hey. This is the first chapter and I'm already needing prompts from M. That's us by the way, M and **_**C, **_**this is our first fic to be uploaded but we promise there's more on the way. Including more chapters of this one, which will be M rated later on, just so everyone knows right now. **

**Right so we hope you enjoy this series... **

**From M and **_**C.**_


	2. Sat Beside You At School

"_Boredom is like a pitiless zooming in on the epidermis of time. Every instant is dilated and magnified like the pores of the face." _

_-Jean Baurdrillard_

: :

Lessons were dull, life was Boring and people were stupid. Sherlock resented being stuck in school and every other person in the building resented the fact he took it out on them. The first day of school after the summer holidays was always tough on everyone especially Sherlock's new teachers.

"Holmes; look at the front when I'm speaking!" Mrs Catrin snapped from the front where she was explaining to the other year 6's about SATs, of course Sherlock didn't include himself in that rabble; he was nothing like them.

"No thank you."

She sputters for a second and the rest of the class have a mixed reaction; some laugh nervously but most stare at him like he's a...well freak. "What did you say young man?!"

He sighed and glanced toward her for a moment. "I said no, miss. I do not wish to listen to you talking about SATs when I already have deduced the most likely questions that will come up. My elder brother received a hundred percent in all his exams when he was one year older than me and I intend to receive the same score and not break a family tradition."

The woman actually looks shocked for a moment but when she opens her mouth to retort there's a knock at the door so she shuts it and glares at him instead, promising that she's have words with him later. "Come in."

Sherlock had a moment of confusion as that boy...John? John that he'd met at the party in the holiday. The completely pointless one.

Why was John here?

Oh, right. He was joining the school Sherlock recalled.

"Everyone this is John Watson, he'll be joining our class as his family has just moved to the area." She smiles at John and gestures for him to come further into the classroom and close the door. "Introduce yourself then John..."

"Um...I'm John Watson. I'm ten and uh..."

The teacher seems to get bored or lose patience at this point- he couldn't tell which- and began looking around for a seat for him.

"Okay John, we have one seat left. You get to sit next to Sherlock!"

: :

John grinned at Sherlock from the front and began to make his way over; Sherlock even gave a small smile back but half way there he began to hear whispers:

"Oh, that poor guy."

"He's got no idea."

"He'll be ripped to shreds!"

"Miss! You can't do that!" The first shout comes from John's left but is then joined by more.

"He'll kill him!"

"It's Sherlock!"

"Poor John!"

John frowned but sat down anyway; he was angry at the rest of the class for just assuming Sherlock would be mean to him.

"I know but it's the only seat and I have no choi-"

"S'cuse me? What if I want to sit here?"

The whole class swivelled to stare at him like he'd just grown two extra heads and was breathing fire.

"You don't know Sherlock mate!" Shouts a large boy from the other side of the classroom.

"Has it occurred to you that I _do_ know him?" Bit out Sherlock from behind John.

John grins at that and says; "I'm his _friend_."

: :

_"__Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."_

_-Anais Nin _

: :

Sherlock felt his heart jump at the word '_friend'_.

He'd never had a friend before.

He actually smiled and moved slightly closer to John subconsciously.

John was his friend and Sherlock was happy about this occurrence. This confused him greatly actually as he'd always been taught that caring was a mistake and never thought himself capable; he'd been diagnosed as a sociopath when he was younger, so as was expected he didn't have many feelings and if he did he hid them.

Feelings got him nowhere.

But this feeling, this warmth he got from the single word friend, was a totally new thing. And it felt good. He didn't want to hide it.

The class were looking at them like John was mentally ill so Sherlock felt the need to change their minds; "he is; we met in the holidays."

If anything this made them stare more. However in the end the teacher actually succeeded in carrying on her talk about the SATs. The class carried on as normal with only the occasional glance their way that Sherlock ignored in favour of looking out the window again.

"Holmes! I really must insist you focus! I don't care what your brother got; it does not mean you will get the same!"

"I have the same IQ level!"

And that was just the start; as with every other teacher Sherlock had she found it hard to cope with him. To get him to start paying attention, stop talking or deducing, stop doing something he wanted to and make him make sense. And then of course there were his black moods; he'd have them every once in a while and drive everyone but an ever patient John crazy. No one seemed to understand why he sat by Sherlock at lunch most of the time but especially when he stopped talking or refused to speak in anything other than Latin, French or some other language. Once he even amused himself by only replying in Welsh to anything asked of him and watching the poor people's faces; the harsh but melodic language was a personal favourite and had been taught to him by his grandfather.

Months went past and John had a lot of friends but he still ate lunch with Sherlock and no one could understand why, least of all Sherlock.

But he was always happy when he did, when he surprised him or took the time for him. But there were those times when the other boys would drag him off to play football, rugby or cricket and he'd leave Sherlock. Sherlock hated those times; they made him feel almost cold inside, like something was missing.

: :

John was listening to Sherlock and Mrs Catrin arguing again about what was and wasn't appropriate behaviour in the school; namely that Sherlock should not disclose the fact that she's cheating on her husband to a classroom of ten and eleven year olds.

"Maybe you should just not-" before he could finish that sentence and get into heaps of trouble- as John knew from experience he would- John lay his hand on Sherlock's arm halfway through. Sherlock broke off and turned his head to look at him and John shook his head.

Sherlock nodded "of course." and turned to look out of his window. John smiled before patting his arm and turning to face the front again.

He didn't want Sherlock to get into anymore trouble. So from then on John generally acted as Sherlock's guide to when he'd crossed a line seeing as the boy had no sense of it himself. And every time he managed to coax out a word like 'please' or 'thank you' or even stop Sherlock when he was on one of his more dangerous tirades he ignored the people who'd stare and make comments like;

"They're both freaks."

"I'm not sure which one's odder."

He was just enjoying being the genius's friend.

: :

**Well that's all we've got for you for now, we hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed or put an alert on; we hope you continue to do so and for new readers we hope you continue with our story!**

**By the way, you might have guessed that we don't own these characters! (Though we'd like to!) And we also do not own any quotes in italics unless we say so. If you're curious about any of these quotes you can leave a review and we will explain or provide you with more information on the subject. (Wow don't we sound professional!)**

**From M and **_**C.**_


	3. And All My Other Friends

_Relationships with peers have an influence on the child that is distinct from that of parent-child relationships, though the latter can influence the peer relationships children form. Although peers become important in middle childhood, the evidence suggests peers do not become attachment figures, though children may direct attachment behaviors at peers if parental figures are unavailable. Attachments to peers tend to emerge in adolescence, although parents continue to be attachment figures. With adolescents, the role of the parental figures is to be available when needed while the adolescent makes excursions into the outside world. _

: :

John hadn't seen Sherlock for months; over six months in fact. Sherlock had gone to a different secondary school and stayed there all week (He'd complained a lot about that. About how Mycroft had forced him to go away.) John missed the crazy genius. He tried not to think about it too much but he did. He knew it had been three years since they were in the same class but he never really got used to just seeing Sherlock at weekends or on holidays and recently neither seemed to have the time to meet up.

But now John was excited. It was two weeks till the village Christmas party hosted by the Holmes's. He knew Sherlock came home for the holidays and he knew his mother and Mycroft wouldn't let him get out of his 'social obligations'. John grinned to himself as he stretched out on his bed remembering how Sherlock had sneered as he'd explained how his family expected him to actually _socialise_.

"What are you grinning at?" asked a grumpy voice just as a pillow was thrown at his head.

"Oi! Greg that hurt!" Greg giggled as he flopped down on John's bed shoving him over a bit. He stopped abruptly when John hit him in the face with the pillow. "Now we're even."

Greg rolled his eyes and nudged John. "So why are you grinning John?"

"I get to see a friend soon Greg."

"You're seeing one now." John rolled his eyes and hit Greg in the arm.

"I'm seeing Sherlock you idiot."

"Sher-oohhh...the genius boy?"

"Yes, 'the genius boy'"

"Do you miss him?"

"No Greg, not at all, I'm just grinning at the ceiling because I don't want to see him."

"Fair enough."

John shoved him so he fell off the bed with a shout. "Oi! John!"

"Idiot!"

"Fine! Fine! I'm sorry for taking the piss."

John smirked and helped him back up. "Better...So, are you coming?"

"To what?"

"The party idiot." John propped himself up on an elbow looking down at his mate grinning. Greg had moved in next door two years ago and since then they'd become close. John would say best friends but he thought he and Sherlock were that.

"The Christmas one? Yeah. Mum wants to go."

"What is it about mothers and village parties?" John flopped back to look at the ceiling.

Greg chuckled "I don't know."

"Sherlock would say that 'social obligations are unnecessary and boring.'"

"I think Sherlock would say a lot of things."

: :

Sherlock glared at Mycroft across the dining table, the fifteen year old glared back.

"Sherlock, eat your food."

"Why mother?"

"You need food Sherlock." Mycroft butted in, just as he always did.

"Shut up Mycroft."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes "Sorry mother."

"Better. Now eat." Sherlock gave up and ate in silence then escaped to his room throwing himself onto his bed.

Just minutes later Mycroft slipped into his room. Sherlock refused to look up from under the arms over his face.

"Hey Sherlie..." He spoke softly from all the way across the room by the door.

"Go away Mycroft."

"No."

"Myc...Please? Please just leave."

"Sherlie...I'm sorry Sherlie."

"Go away."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock groaned and sat up crossing his arms and glaring at Mycroft. "You left me here. Alone Myc."

"I said sorry Sherlie." Mycroft actually did look remorseful and walked over sitting at the end of Sherlock's bed.

"And you sent me away."

Mycroft sighed "That was for the best Sherlie."

"Keep telling yourself that." He flopped back again covering his face. "They hate me there Myc, always have. Wasn't so bad when you were there for college but now...Myc I hate it. And I hate it when I come back here and Mother and Father act like I don't exist until they _have_ to talk to me and you're not here to talk to."

"What about John?"

"Oh _John_, he's been busy. Got a job at the weekend working in a charity shop. I haven't seen him for months Myc...I don't care..."

"Sure." Mycroft sounded sceptical but left it alone. Sherlock felt him lift his feet and place them in his lap as he leant against the wall. He started to rub them gently and Sherlock couldn't tell whether it was meant to annoy or relax him. He ended up relaxing under Myc's familiar touch; he'd often comforted Sherlock when they were younger and Sherlock got hurt or had a nightmare. They both knew their parents never would. "There's the Christmas party Sherlie. You'll get to catch up with him then."

Sherlock grinned, he hadn't thought of that. "Thanks Myc."

: :

_About a third to a half of individuals with autism do not develop enough natural speech to meet their daily communication needs. Differences in communication may be present from the first year of life, and may include delayed onset of __babbling__, unusual gestures, diminished responsiveness, and vocal patterns that are not synchronized with the caregiver. In the second and third years, autistic children have less frequent and less diverse babbling, consonants, words, and word combinations; their gestures are less often integrated with words. Autistic children are less likely to make requests or share experiences, and are more likely to simply repeat others' words (__echolalia__) or __reverse pronouns__. __Joint attention__ seems to be necessary for functional speech, and deficits in joint attention seem to distinguish infants with ASD: for example, they may look at a pointing hand instead of the pointed-at object, and they consistently fail to point at objects in order to comment on or share an experience. Autistic children may have difficulty with imaginative play and with developing symbols into language._

: :

The party was boring; again, and John couldn't find Sherlock anywhere. Greg kept whinging and leaning on his shoulder.

"Can we just leave John?"

"No."

"Oh right. Genius best friend to find..."

John rolled his eyes and punched his arm "Shut up Greg."

"What you going to do?"

John and Greg wrestled for a couple of minutes until John got Greg into a headlock. They were both breathless and giggling when John heard a familiar voice. "John?"

John released Greg and spun around to face Sherlock grinning. "Hello..."

Sherlock smirked at John as Greg straightened up rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey John."

Greg grinned and slung his arm over John's shoulders. "Hello Sherlock! I'm Greg..."

Sherlock looked a little nonplussed and took a step back. John smiled slightly "Sorry, Sherlock this is Greg my friend and Greg this is Sherlock my best friend..."

Greg smiled and stuck out his hand to shake Sherlock's. He took it tentatively and shook it. John grinned at Sherlock who smiled back.

After a while Sherlock and John ended up in Sherlock's room talking about school. Sherlock told John about blowing up the chemistry lab and John told Sherlock about spending his weekends with Greg in the shop.

He didn't tell Sherlock how some of his mates made fun of Sherlock, of him for handing out with who they termed a 'freak'. Refused to tell him how at weekends when he _could _see Sherlock they told him to ditch him and come and play, John never did but he didn't know if that made it any better. But John just told him about happy things and laughed at Sherlock's stories; he didn't want to hurt the other boy.

So they sat and talked for hours, laughing and smiling.

: :

"I wish I could go to your school John..." He lay next to the other boy on his carpet staring up at his ceiling.

"Don't you like your school Lockie?" Sherlock smiled at the nickname; from anyone else's mouth a name like that Sherlock wouldn't have allowed- except Mycroft- but from John it made him feel a little bit warm inside.

"Not much. It's boring...and I don't have you to talk to."

He saw John smile slightly out of the corner of his eye. "I can't be there all the time Lockie."

"But you're better company than the people there." Sherlock could hear the whine in his own voice.

John just chuckled and turned his head towards Sherlock. "I miss you too you brilliant git."

: :

**So I know we've been promising this for a while and it has **_**been **_**a while but we have a very good excuse. **_**C's **_**ill. So sorry...and yeah... **

**Also we know this is sort of just a fluffy chapter but we wanted to show them growing up a bit and introduce Greg. Don't like it? Tell us. **

**We know that technically this fic should be called 'Sunny Side Up' after Paolo Nutini's lovely album as we are using lyrics from all the songs in that album to name these chapters. However 'Growing Up Beside You' just seemed like the perfect name and it is a beautiful song. This chapter is named for a lyric in 'Coming Up Easy.'**

**From M and **_**C. **_


	4. I'm A Heartless Man At Worst, Babe

_I'm A Heartless Man At Worst, Babe... _

: :

"_Attachment disorder__ is a broad term intended to describe __disorders__ of __mood__, __behavior__, and __social relationships__ arising from a failure to form normal __attachments__ to __primary care giving figures__ in early __childhood__, resulting in problematic social expectations and behaviors. Such a failure would result from unusual early experiences of __neglect__, __abuse__, abrupt separation from caregivers after about six months of age but before about three years of age, frequent change of caregivers or excessive numbers of caregivers, or lack of caregiver responsiveness to child communicative efforts. A problematic history of social relationships occurring after about age three may be distressing to a child, but does not result in attachment disorder."_

: :

The noise was blissfully wiped out as he slid the needle out of his arm and placed it on the desk next to him. He hated when it came to this; taking a hit or being overwhelmed by all his thoughts, this way he was free.

He didn't want to think about how it would hurt his family when they found out.

He didn't say _if _they found out. He knew they would. He just didn't want to think about what they'd do, what would happen.

He didn't say if his _friends _found out; he didn't have any.

'There was John', a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispered to him.

No, no, no! He'd fought so hard not to think about John, John away with _Lestrade _at university. Becoming a doctor; sharing a room with _Lestrade _and forgetting Sherlock. The university had refused to take Sherlock until he was sixteen...Which was next month.

No. Shut up.

But he was so close! He hadn't seen John for a year (almost a whole year anyway). John's family had taken them abroad on the holidays that he had; off to Spain or somewhere else. Sherlock couldn't remember right now. Maybe that meant the drug was working? Finally, it had taken longer this time.

But he worried John would develop feelings for that idiot Lestrade. He didn't want that. He might not understand _why _he didn't want that but he didn't. He was so confused.

John didn't help by being so _nice; _he sent him a text at least once a day always something about his day. Stuff like '_one of the girls in my biology class threw up today at the sight of blood. She wants to be a surgeon. Can you deduce what's wrong with this picture?' _

They always made Sherlock laugh and took his mind off his troubles for a while. Never for long enough really; but for a short while he was happy.

He once even sent him a chemistry university workbook- Sherlock had been overjoyed with that and sent John and thank you; along with the time it took him to complete it. One hour and seven minutes.

No. No, no, no! He'd been doing so well not thinking about John apart from those daily texts! He tried so hard to forget the blonde; it always hurt his chest to think about John Watson.

He sighed and pulled out another syringe and began wrapping the tourniquet around his arm. He _would _forget John for now; one way or another.

: :

John was pushed back onto his bed as the boy- Harry- straddled his hips and pushed his shoulders into the bed kissing him bruisingly.

John pulled away gasping "Are you sure, Harry? We don't have-"

"Oh god John! Shut up! For god's sake I've been eye fucking you for two weeks now!"

"Oh...okay." John grinned and pulled Harry down latching his mouth onto his neck and sucking marks to the surface.

"Mm John!"

John chuckled and said breathily in Harry's ear; "In that case I'll admit that I've been 'eye fucking' you too."

Harry flushed and bit his lip looking at John from under his lashes, "Really?"

"Yeah; I've been wanting to do this-" he reached up and tangled his hands through Harry's choppy brown hair. "And this..." He gave him a long lingering kiss. "And especially this..." He flipped them over and rolled his hips forward.

"Oh!" Harry grinned and reached up to encircle John's neck with his arms. "That's nice."

Lestrade was out all night; staying with his new partner (girlfriend or boyfriend, John wasn't sure which this time.) So they fucked right there in John's shared room.

Lying together after Harry lifted his head from John's chest and spoke slowly. "Hey, I'd rather keep this casual, yeah?"

John hesitated before nodding "Sure."

Harry smiled, "Thanks John. You're a great shag and all but I'm not ready for any commitment."

John laughed at that and pulled Harry closer. "You don't have to worry, just casual."

: :

_In this manner, most consider __Isaac Newton__ to be the one who stimulated the discovery of the "laws of attraction". Before this, however, the ancient Greeks knew from magnetic interactions that "opposites attract" and "likes repel". This factor is modeled essentially via __Coulomb's law__._

_In the latter half of the 19th century, the theory of __electromagnetism__, unified by __James Clerk Maxwell__ in 1873, is the __physics__ of the __electromagnetic field__; a __field__ encompassing all of __space__ which exerts a __force__ on __particles__ that possess the property of __electric charge__, and is in turn affected by the presence and motion of those particles. This effect, as modeled via __Maxwell's field equations__, can be thought of as the electromagnetic laws of attraction and repulsion._

_With the discovery of sub-atomic particles, such as the __quark__, and the __fundamental forces__, the term "laws of attraction" has been replaced with the conception of __field particle__ exchange, and the bonding effect created there from. Subsequently, in the 20th century the laws of affinity were replaced by the laws of __quantum chemistry__ and __chemical thermodynamics__. _

: :

Despite the drug haze the next text was like a knife to the chest:

'_Had a great day today, finally hooked up with Harry; been eyeing him for ages. What may we deduce from this? That I like lovely green eyes? Or that I like tall guys with shaggy brown hair? Or am I just being a teenager? Need the detectives help!' _

This text didn't make him smile or laugh; it made him throw his phone at a wall and pull out a third syringe.

He didn't need John. He didn't need anyone!

He wrapped the tourniquet around his arm again pulling it a bit too tight but he didn't care.

He didn't care about anything.

He knew he'd gone a bit too far when he stood and the world tilted his vision going black around the edges. He didn't understand at first and then began to panic as his mind moved sluggishly to think of why he couldn't think. Nothing would come.

Nothing would come.

The floor came. It met his knees first, then the rest of him. It hurt but then it didn't. He really should be worried about that.

What should he be worried about?

He couldn't remember and then that didn't matter either; there was only nothing.

: :

John woke up at two am to the sound of his phone ringing. He saw the time blurrily through half closed eyes as his alarm clock declared it cheerfully in a hideous green.

He rolled over trying not to wake Harry and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello John." He didn't recognise the voice at first and then it came to him; Mycroft. He sounded worn out and stressed.

"Mycroft?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong? Has something happened? Is it Sherlock?!" John was suddenly irrationally panicked, had Sherlock done something stupid?

"Yes; it's Sherlock."

"What happened? Please tell me!" Harry had begun to stir at this point and was looking up at him wide eyed in the green glow.

"Sherlock. He...He overdosed. I thought you should know."

: :

**Well we promised angst. Didn't we? Did we? Oops we did mean to... **

**...Sorry... **

**Anyway here it is! Finally the next chapter of Growing Up Beside You! Yay! Finally...phew! **

**Well sorry for making you wait. And sorry for all this angst that's suddenly appearing that we totally meant to warn you about... **

**Anyway thanks to everyone who's reading/reviewed/put us on alert! We're very grateful and we hope you continue or decide to! **

**Also come see us on tumblr! We'll post chapter updates, teasers and we take prompts! One or both of us will talk to you: **

**From M and **_**C. **_


	5. Worried Man

_Panic__ is a sudden sensation of __fear__ which is so strong as to dominate or prevent __reason__ and __logical__ thinking, replacing it with overwhelming feelings of __anxiety__ and frantic __agitation__ consistent with an animalistic __fight-or-flight__ reaction. Panic may occur singularly in individuals or manifest suddenly in large groups as __mass panic__ (closely related to __herd behavior__)._

: :

John felt the panic well up in him. He'd managed to remain calm on the phone but now as he hung up he couldn't cope and suddenly his face was wet, his hands shaking and distantly he registered that the hideous, hoarse sobs were coming from him. Absently he noted that that noise was the complete embodiment of how he felt; broken and pained.

"John?! John what's happened? Please! You're scaring me!"

He blinked up at the other teenager. "H-harry?" He croaked uncomprehendingly.

"Yes John. Please tell me what's wrong?"

John just went back to looking down at his lap his hands shaking where they rested on his thighs. He knew that Harry was moving away, watched him pick up his mobile from the tilted nightstand; that was funny, when had he laid down?

"Lestrade?... No... I'm Harry... Yeah, not John's sister, I'm his mate... Look something's happened... He got a phone call and just closed off... No he's just sitting and crying... Shaking, yeah, won't stop. Will you come? ... Thank you." He heard Harry hang up and put the phone back down.

"John? John? Lestrade's coming back. Alright."

Numbly John nodded.

When Greg arrived his tears had stopped but he was still staring at the wall. He knew he'd panicked before but now he just felt numb. He was still thinking though; what if Sherlock died? He couldn't stand a world where Sherlock didn't exist, it just wouldn't be right.

"John?!" He heard raw worry and panic in Greg's voice and actually made an effort to glance over at his friend. "God what happened John?"

Slowly John opened his mouth and croaked out "Sher-Sherlock..."

Greg came and knelt in front of John close by. Harry hovered behind him, "Who's Sherlock?" He sounded curious despite John's condition.

"His best mate." Greg looked straight at John and reached out pulling him close with one arm. "What happened with Sherlock John?"

"He...He overdosed. They don't-" Greg waited patiently despite the worry clouding his eyes. "They thought he was going to die... It's still touch and go."

"Oh god I'm sorry John..." Greg just leant forward and held him, both hoping it'd be okay.

: :

_The word "overdose" implies that there is a common safe dosage and usage for the drug; therefore, the term is commonly only applied to drugs, not __poisons__, though even certain poisons are harmless at a low enough dosage._

_Drug overdoses are sometimes caused intentionally to commit __suicide__ or as __self-harm__, but many drug overdoses are accidental, the result of intentional or unintentional misuse of medication. Unintentional misuse leading to overdose can include using prescribed or un-prescribed drugs in excessive quantities in an attempt to produce __euphoria__._

_Usage of __illicit drugs__ of unexpected purity, in large quantities, or after a period of drug __abstinence__ can also induce overdose. __Cocaine__ users who __inject intravenously__ can easily overdose accidentally, as the margin between a pleasurable drug sensation and an overdose is small _

_Unintentional misuse can include errors in dosage caused by failure to read or understand product labels. Accidental overdoses may also be the result of over-prescription, failure to recognize a drug's active ingredient, or unwitting ingestion by children. A common unintentional overdose in young children involves multi-vitamins containing iron. __Iron__ is a component of the __hemoglobin__molecule__ in __blood__, used to transport __oxygen__ to living cells. When taken in small amounts, iron allows the body to replenish hemoglobin, but in large amounts it causes severe __pH__ imbalances in the body. If this overdose is not treated with __chelation therapy__, it can lead to death or permanent __coma__._

_The term 'overdose' is often misused as a descriptor for __adverse drug reactions__ or negative __drug interactions__ due to __mixing multiple drugs simultaneously__._

: :

Sherlock would be fine, the doctors said, Sherlock would get better, the doctors said, Sherlock would make a full recovery, the doctors said.

John hated not being able to go to him. Not being able to see him and talk to him. To reassure himself that Sherlock would be alright. Rationally he _knew _Sherlock would be fine if the doctors said so but he couldn't stop the worry building in him.

In two weeks he could see Sherlock, two weeks and he could go home. He'd go straight to see Sherlock and would berate him on how utterly stupidly wonderfully not dead the teen was.

He'd almost lost his best friend and he did not intend to let it happen again.

: :

**Well there we are! Sorry it was so short but we're a bit rushed and wanted to get this out to you. **

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**From M and **_**C. **_


	6. Refusing To Go Down Without a Fight

"_To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." _

: :

Sherlock woke up with his tongue feeling like sandpaper and glued to the roof of his mouth. His mouth itself was dry and it hurt to swallow. His head pounded and throbbed causing a constant pressure behind already sore eyes.

He groaned and went to sit up. Oh no that was a _very _bad idea he concluded as his head swam and he felt nauseous. He dropped back onto the bed deciding that horizontal was _much _better than vertical right now.

"Oh Sherlock, you're awake!" John? Was that John? He remembered something was wrong with John. Or was it about John? He couldn't remember. He began to panic; why couldn't he remember?! What had happened?! "Sherlock! Sherlock calm down, please?" No; that wasn't John's voice, then where was John?!

Sherlock realised he was panicking after a moment and tried to calm himself, breathing in and out deeply and focusing on trying to work out who the voice was if it wasn't John.

Deep breathing brought with it the smell of over powering antiseptic. Given his state and the smell he was most likely in a hospital. The 'why?' was still bothering him.

It also brought- along with that antiseptic smell and clean linens- the smell of expensive cologne and- just like that- the voice fell into place.

"Mycroft?" He winced; his voice sounded hoarse and unused even to his own ears.

"Yes Sherlie; I'm here." There was suddenly a hand wrapped around his own so now he knew his parents weren't there; just Mycroft.

"Myc? Myc why am I here?" He was desperate to know; it was scaring him and bugging him at the same time.

Mycroft paused before squeezing his hand. "I-I didn't know you had brought drugs or even knew where to find them... you... you overdosed Sherlie; scared us all half dead Sherlie."

"Oh..."

"Oh is right little brother." Mycroft gripped his hand and leant forward. "Why, Sherlie?"

"I don't... I don't remember. The drugs are just a distraction; to take me away from the constant noise... the last thing I remember something about John... John! Is John okay? Something was wrong; I'm sure..."

"Sherlock, nothing's wrong with John. John's... well... John's coping." Mycroft sounded hesitant.

"What? What do you mean 'coping'?! What's wrong with him?!" He could hear the panic and desperation in his own voice but he didn't care.

Mycroft sighed and leant back in his chair though he kept holding his hand. "Sherlock... you have to understand that no one expected this, okay?"

Sherlock swallowed suddenly nervous and dreading what would be told to him next. "Okay."

"I phoned John when we found you. It was the middle of the night but as soon as your name was mentioned he seemed to wake up and pay attention and then well I told him that you had...overdosed and apparently he just- sort of- broke."

Sherlock felt something tighten in his chest. "Broke...?"

"His friend- Lestrade I believe? - phoned me back to ask how you were doing for John and to ask if we knew why you did it. He explained that after we got off the phone John started crying and- when he stopped- he just seemed empty, said he needed some good news at least to tell John. Luckily you were improving." Mycroft sounded sad and bitter at the same time.

"Wh-Where's John now?"

"He has end of year exams. He'll be down in three days for four days to come and see you. After that he has to go back and finish his exams but he'll be coming back down after that for the summer. I personally cleared this with the university Sherlock, do not waste it."

Sherlock suddenly felt so very grateful to Mycroft for just being _there _for being his big brother. He clutched at his hand just wanting his brother close. "Thank you Myc."

Mycroft smiled at him gently trying to reassure him. "Everything will be okay Sherlie. I'll sort it all out."

: :

John stared at the white door in front of him mentally arguing with himself about the pros and cons for walking through it.

On one hand he'd see _him_. That was an obvious bonus.

On the other hand he'd see _him_. Oh that was a definite con.

"Are you okay, sir?" A polite voice asked.

It roused him and he turned to see a pretty petite nurse smiling up at him. Someone shorter him now that was a novelty. "Yes thanks." He gave her a winning smile turning towards her, she was _very_ pretty.

"It's just that you've been staring at that door for ten minutes now..." She laughed giving him a flirty smile. She was pretty _and _young.

He grinned cheekily. "Ah see that's the problem..."

"Conflicted?"

"Yeah see my mate-"

Suddenly the door was yanked open and Sherlock appeared. "I knew I heard voices! John!" Sherlock sounded happy and looked it even if he was too pale and too thin. He looked happy- that is- for about three seconds until he noticed the smiling nurse that was close behind John. He flinched before grabbing John and pulling him inside and slamming the door behind them. John was surprised so despite Sherlock being weak he was able to pull him in no trouble.

"John!"

"Sherlock? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah fine."

"Sherlock!"

"What?" Sherlock stopped grinning at him from where he had him pressed against the door, a position that John didn't know whether he liked or not. Scratch that; a position he was trying to convince his body he _didn't_ like.

He reached up and grasped Sherlock's upper arms, "You okay?"

"Of course I'm bloody o- oohhhh..." Sherlock stopped, his mouth forming a little 'o' of surprise as he stared at the shorter man.

"Sherlock?" John was worried now; Sherlock was _never _speechless.

"You really care..." Sherlock looked amazed now.

"Of course I bloody care! God, Sherlock, you idiot!" He was angry now; for God's sake, how could Sherlock think he didn't care?!

"But… but…"

"But what, Sherlock? You thought because I went off to train as a doctor that I wasn't still your best mate? That I didn't still-" John cut himself off knowing that THAT would do no one any good. It would only cause his best friend to reject him. "Look Sherlock, I missed you so much and I had so much work that I couldn't come and visit but I tried to text every day, I know that's no substitute but… Then I got a call from Mycroft and- it was just awful Sherlock; I just couldn't imagine losing you, I couldn't stand the idea of not having you..."

Sherlock looked dumbstruck. That was the only word for it. The seventeen year old genius was dumbstruck. "John…"

"What Sherlock? Are you surprised that I care?!"

"Well… yes…" Sherlock stared down at him, searching his face. John sighed.

"Well I do… now budge; I need to sit down."

Sherlock released him looking almost reluctant. John brushed that off as not being able to read his friend properly after so long; Sherlock Holmes didn't get reluctant.

"Why did you do it Sherlock?" John asked, dropping onto the messy hospital bed.

"I-I... John…" Sherlock sounded pleadingly desperate to not tell John.

John just raised an eyebrow. "I need an answer, Sherlock. God you scared me so much, I DESERVE an answer."

"Ah- right. Yeah, of course…" Sherlock looked lost… pained. "John, this isn't easy…" Sherlock pleaded. "…please?"

"Please what? I don't understand what you want! Why you can't just do this for me."

"Because… Because…"

John took a deep, calming breath. "Right. Of course. This must be hard, I'm sorry Sherlie."

Sherlock nodded dropping onto the bed and curling up, resting against the pillows.

"Just start from the beginning, yeah?" John said slowly, patiently.

"Okay." Sherlock nodded again. "Sure."

: :

**So it is finally, FINALLY up! Yay! Took us long enough, right? We're so sorry; we have exams and are sick and lots of stuff really. **

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	7. Oh, I'll Be There Waiting For You

_"Never underestimate your ability to make someone else's life better – Even if you never know it."_

: :

John sat quietly facing Sherlock on the bed, waiting for him to begin. He realised it must be hard for the other boy- or man?- to tell his story.

To talk about why he might have tried to... Kill himself.

He sat and waited.

And waited.

"Sherlock?"

"Sorry..."

"It's okay, take your time."

Sherlock sat in silence for a long time before sighing. "Are you still my best friend?"

John looked confused. "What? Yes!"

Sherlock stopped for a moment, bowing his head. "It... It certainly didn't feel like it."

"What?" John whispered.

"When... when you go away to uni? You leave me here, John, leave me behind. I... I'm stranded here, John. I'm all alone because no one understands. Not anyone. Only you and Mycroft come close to knowing me. Understanding."

There was a long pause. "Oh..."

"Oh? Oh?! Is that all you have to fucking say?!"

"Sherlock, I-"

"No! No! John. I can't! You leave me here for months! Months and months! I'm all alone. Isolated. But I still fucking love you! I love you John and you're a fucking moron who can't fucking see that I lo-" Sherlock was stopped by John's lips against his as he kissed him gently. Sherlock pulled back after a moment. "W-what are you...?"

John sighed and shook his head. "You are a stupid, stupid genius. Did you know that? I've loved you... for as long as I can remember. I love you." John leant forward and kissed him again slowly and Sherlock let him.

Eventually Sherlock pulled back. "I don't understand though... Ryan..."

"I don't care about Ryan or any of the other people I might've dated or slept with. I might like them, but I don't care for them."

Sherlock frowned and then tightened his grip on John. "And you didn't tell me this earlier? Before drugs?" He sounded a little desperate.

"I'm sor- you didn't tell me you were even doing drugs though! I didn't know."

"Because you weren't here, John..." Sherlock looked down and John cupped his face gently resting his forehead against Sherlock's.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you." He kissed Sherlock again gently.

They kissed tenderly for a while. Slowly and sweetly; making up for lost time and trying to forgive each other. They lost track of time and so when Mycroft came in balancing two cups of coffee and a newspaper John was startled by the noise and almost fell off the bed.

After regaining his balance John looked up at Mycroft sheepishly. The other man looked a little surprised but was smiling slightly and nodded at John before taking a seat. He put the other coffee on the little table over the bed and unfolded his newspaper. "Do carry on."

John glanced bashfully at Sherlock and he looked back blushing, they stared at each other for a moment before breaking into giggles.

: :

**Sorry it's taken so long you guys. On a personal note, ****_(C's) _****my family suffered a sudden berievement and I've been seriously shaken by it. (Seriously shaken literally too, I can barely stop shaking sometimes.)**

**I'd like to note that I do apologise for the delay but an OD is the reason why I'm greiving. **

**However the more reviews we get the quicker we shall try to get the next chapter out. **

**We apologise for shortness. **

**From M and ****_C._**


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